"What on earth is katikiro?" asked Tom.
Mbutu looked puzzled and scratched his head. After pondering a while, and searching for words to make the matter clear to his master's intelligence, he said:
"Katikiro palaver man. Chief want eat--call katikiro. Chief want wife--call katikiro. Want gib bad man kiboko--call katikiro all same."
"Sort of head cook and bottle-washer, lord high executioner and prime minister all in one, eh? Well, tell the right honourable katikiro I want to see the chief."
"Him say chief asleep."
"Then he must wake him up."
Mbutu spoke to the negro, who shook his head, looked very serious, and, pointing to the hut behind, answered quickly and earnestly.
"Him say chief chop off head," grinned Mbutu. "Chief berrah big, oh!"
"He must chance that!" replied Tom. "Tell him that if he and his master keep me dawdling here any longer, I shall report both of them to the government at Entebbe, and then they'll be sorry."
If Tom had understood Mbutu's interpretation of his speech he would have heard him inform the native that his master's big brother, the Great White King, would take away the chief's wives and goats, charms and beads, and leave him not so much as an anklet to call his own. He would pull his teeth, shave his head, and make him wash himself in hot water twice a day. Mbutu was proceeding to amplify these threats with great eloquence when Tom, losing patience, cried: "If he doesn't hurry up, I shall go in and wake the chief myself," and he made a movement towards the hut. Instantly the man, with a terrified look, took a long breath, turned sideways, and squeezed his rotundity through the narrow aperture. His entrance was followed by a stream of very hot language, and in a moment the katikiro reappeared, looking somewhat crestfallen. He was followed immediately by the chief, a well-made negro, scowling and rubbing his eyes. He presented a comical appearance in his torn calico shirt and head-dress consisting of a piece of lion's skin ingeniously ornamented with stork's feathers. Tom went up to him and held out his hand frankly, a courtesy he regretted at once, for on emerging from the chief's grip he found his hand covered with dirty grease. Still smiling, however, he made as impressive an oration as he could, and then asked through Mbutu if the chief could tell him anything about the expedition. Mbutu added on his own account that he had better tell no lies, for his master was a near relative of the Great White King, and moreover had been given by a medicine man the power to see through the back of any black man's head. He further promised on Tom's behalf that the truth would be repaid with a good many beads, while falsehood would entail unspeakable consequences.